


The New Us

by DMichelleWrites



Series: D's Olicity Summer Sizzle [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 07:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19848454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMichelleWrites/pseuds/DMichelleWrites
Summary: Believe or not, this is only a small portion of what you'll see in chapter 9 of myArrowseason 7 rewrite, but it fit this week's Olicity Sizzle prompt. So I decided to post some of it now.Oliver and Felicity learn to go on living their daily lives after a mission, which will now only be known as the incident. Our favorite heroic couple has a chance to reconnect with each other on a date night that does not go as planned.





	The New Us

**Author's Note:**

> There's a moment that I wrote with John and Mia that actually made me tear up, and that rarely ever happens. So grab tissues. And since I get this question a few times no, I don't write Felicity in a wheelchair for the sole purpose of the fact that I'm a woman with disabilities myself. Yeah, that's a small part of it, but in my season 7 re-write, I knew it was something I wanted to continue to explore with Felicity. Also, I'd rather have Oliver lose his arm and Felicity lose her ability to walk than have them spend 20 years without each other and their family. Lastly going into this, I knew I didn't want to have perfect love scene. So regardless of all that, I hope you enjoy this story.

_**Bloomfield 2024** _

The night started out so peacefully. Oliver and Felicity had just polished the last of Oliver’s roast turkey and green bean casserole over glasses of wine. Mia, Lucas, and Morgan were fast asleep in their beds. The Queens quickly retired to their beds and relished in a few hours of slumber. Suddenly, air hissed through vents, blanketing the floor like dry ice.

“Oliver, I-I can’t move.”

The archer grit, “Dover. He’s back.”

“Damn it, I was sure we killed the crazy bastard.” Felicity grunted a command, “Ar-archer, turn on air purifying mode now.”

The AI responded, “Yes, Mrs. Smoak-Queen.”

Archer sucked the toxic gas out of their little cabin like a large vacuum, quickly replacing it with a layer of purified mountain air.

“I’ll grab the kids. You get your gun, Felicity just in case and don’t come out until I say so.”

Felicity nodded in response, cocking her pistol.

Oliver’s bare feet bounded the wooden floor. He surveyed each of the children’s rooms to find nothing. There were only empty unmade beds and whistling wind blowing through tattered pink curtains. His heart pounded as rapidly as a cheetah.

“Fuck!” Oliver cursed, punching a hole in the wall. His knuckles were red, bloody, and bruised, “Felicity. Honey, Dover took the kids.”

“We’re going to make sure that psycho stays dead.” Felicity vowed, slamming a fist into her palm.

He inquired, squeezing his wife’s shoulder a little too tight,“Right now, we need to focus on finding the kids. Do they still have their tracking devices?” 

“Of course.”

Her fingertips flew across the blue holographic keyboard. Mia had a costume bumblebee ring she refused to take off — even at bedtime. Lucas and Morgan had trackers in the zippers of their footie pajamas. Three black, red, and pink triangles blinked on a map.

“Got ‘em.” Overwatch reported, “They’re in Port Cove all the way in Waterford.”

He nodded, suiting up, “I’ll get there as soon as I can. Just be careful…”

“I’m going with you Oliver. These are our children, and I need to be there for them, to see with my own two eyes that they’re safe.” His wife ordered, “So grab your gear and let’s save our babies.”

Hard stern lines etched across his face, but there was no room to argue. Per usual, Felicity was always right. They raced down to Oliver’s emerald Ducati. Big headlights shined a path along a bumpy dirt road. The engine roared. Felicity clung onto to her husband for dear life as he was pushing the throttle to top speed.

The Green Arrow growled, “I’m giving it everything she’s got, but even at mach speed, we still won’t make it there in time before the cargo ship leaves port.”

“Damn it, I was hoping we’d never have to use this bad boy.” Overwatch instructed. “Push the small green button by your headlights.”

She could see from Oliver’s helmet visor how his brows furrowed in momentary confusion.

“There’s no time for questions. Just trust me and do as I say!”

“I will always trust you, Felicity.”

He did as she asked. Suddenly, his Ducati transformed into a hover car as if this vehicle flew straight out of the Jetsons. Two powerful jet engines thundered upon ignition. A vibrant green speed trail streaked across the dark empty sky. The duo touched down on concrete of Port Cove within five minutes.

His wife alerted, eyes glued to those three blinking trackers, “The kids are in the storage crate on the stern of the third cargo ship.”

A young man who looked strikingly like Stanley Dover jumped onto the dock like a ghost dropping from the shadows.

“Don’t worry, Felicity. Your kids and their little friends are in need of my protection.” 

Felicity fired a warning shot.

“Like Hell they do.” The hacker cursed. Rage burned in her azure eyes. Felicity adopted a fighting stance and aimed her gun. “You messed with the wrong mother, whoever you are.”

He cackled, “Whoever I am? Name’s Kevin Dover, sweetheart.”

“Well, fuck, I can’t believe that weird little psychopath ever procreated.” Felicity thought to herself.

She threw her tablet and pistol on the ground.

Her foe taunted as the feisty blonde jump kicked, “Not so fast, Overwatch.”

He grabbed her leg and threw her on the dock. She popped right back, akin to a boxer in a title match.

Kevin chuckled, “Your heroes don’t know when to quit. My father always thought that kind of bad behavior needed to be corrected. So I’m-I’m going to fulfill his dying wish.”

Anger burst out like a mama bear ready to protect her cubs. She charged at him, ready to tackle her foe.

“Not if I can help it!”

The evil spawn ordered, “Alena, why don’t you show your little friend all our schway toys?”

Black combat boots thudded against the concrete. Alena, in a short buzz cut, swooped down like a vulture with her Tablet at the ready.

“With pleasure,” Her former friend smirked, typing commands on the screen. “Payback’s a bitch. Isn’t it, Blondie?”

A spider like robot, the size of a working dog, crawled out from under a kelp covered tarp. The machine pinned Felicity against a large wooden shipping. She grunted and pushed back in the fray, but the bot had her pinned like a fly in its web. A crowbar pierced into her spine. Felicity cried in the most intense pain she ever felt.

Green Arrow looked back at his partner anxiously, “Overwatch!”

“Get-get the kids.” His teammate whimpered in assurance. She winced, “I-I can handle this bitch.”

The archer growled in regret, pushing on with the mission.

He yelled out desperately, “Mia! Lucas! Morgan!”

A wide metal bar clanged, and he heard strong little kicks repeatedly bashing into a large lock.

“Daddy?!” The brave five year old shrieked at the top of her lungs, desperately trying to open the door, “Help!”

Her younger brother and sister banged against the door. Their faces red hot and eyes puffy with fat frightened tears

“I’m here. Okay? Listen to Daddy. I need you guys to back away from the lock.”

Groups of kids followed Mia’s lead. The Emerald Archer approached the large crate. He used a laser arrow, kicking off the lock with his large combat green boot.

“Daddy!”

The kids tackle-hugged him. He ushered each child out safely. They were packed in a dark dank crate like sardines. He swooped up a little boy no older than six into his arms, but there was a noise. Ticking... The sudden ticking grew louder. Large red numbers counted down on a timer Five, four, three...

His eyes widened under his Domino mask. “Bomb! Everybody run away!”

The kids scattered in a panic, feet pitter-pattering against the concrete in great haste. Oliver had one hand on the switch as the last little boy struggled to break free of his hold. He literally tossed the kid on the ground. The boy landed in a grunt on his stomach. The bomb exploded inside the crate. Flames burst out, cracking in an instant. Thick black smoke billowed out from the wreckage. The air had a wafting scent of acrid gasoline.

“Dada!” The twins wailed in unison, “No!”

They tried to run to him as he collapsed onto the dock. Mia’s arms wound tight around her siblings, holding them both away from the massive blast with all her might.

Meanwhile Alena had Felicity cornered against that goddamn crate. The evil hacker’s flashed purple. Nevertheless, she resisted, Felicity furiously batted her arms into metal tentacles. Blood dripped down the corner of her mouth.

Overwatch growled, “Oliver! Alena, why? Why-why are you doing this?”

“Children need to be programmed, so they can make the world a better place.”

“No, no you’re wrong.” Felicity denied in a heavy breath, eyes drooping as she ran out of energy.

Alena smirked, “I’m sorry you feel that way, Overwatch.”

The evil hacker typed in a code on her arm that disabled her former hero’s biostimulant chip. Electromagnetic pulse waves barreled into Felicity as strong as any Canary’s sonic cry. A bloodcurdling scream rippled out of Felicity. Heat coursed through her veins as if she was constantly being electrocuted. Her limbs trembled violently, akin to a seizure. Pressure from being pinned back into the crate cracked her spine. This was a thousand times worse than childbirth. She passed out from the immense pain as her husband laid out unconscious surrounded by flames.

**➳**

“Mama? Daddy?!” Mia sobbed in absolute terror, doing the only thing she knew how to do at the point. The scared little girl tapped the tiny stinger on her bumblebee ring, “Un-uncle John?”

Her godfather gasped as his face filled a six centimeter screen, “Oh, dear God. What happened, sweetheart?”

“Mama and Daddy won’t wake up.” Her little voice cracked with sniffles, “They won’t wake up. We-we need you, Uncle John.”

“Are they breathing, Honey?” He checked.

Her vision blurred with tears, yet Mia saw how Mama’s hand moved a tiny bit, and Daddy opened his eyes for just a second.

She bobbed her head, “Yeah, yes, I think so. I don’t know.”

“Help is on the way, Mia.” Her Uncle promised. “Stay with me.” The Director alerted on the other line, “I need six ex-ARGUS and Knightwatch units in the Michigan area headed to Port Cove. It’s a Code Green critical emergency. I repeat it’s a Code Green critical emergency, let’s move people.”

“Uncle John?” Mia asked hopefully in a tearful plea, staring at him with these reddened tired eyes.

He informed, “My friend Frank will be there soon, Sweetie.”

She nodded in understanding. Mia crumbled on the ground. She was an anchor for her younger twin brother and sister. The three Queen children had gone through so much in one single night of terror than most adults had experienced in their entire lifetime. The scared little girl clung to her siblings and kept them warm. She remembered how warm her Daddy felt when they crawled into her Mommy and Daddy’s bed after a loud and scary thunderstorm.

“It’s okay, Luke. It’s okay, Morgan.” She hoped, “Uncle John gots help.”

Boogers and snot wetted her favorite purple bee pajama top as the pair cried harder than ever before. Her small hands cupped their faces like she’d seen Mommy do with Daddy more times than she could count. They curled up together in a ball.

Lucas whimpered, “Mia.”

“Mi-Mi,” Morgan echoed with a hiccup.

Red and blue lights flashed in a pattern. Sirens blared, ripping through the deadly silence. Choppers whirred over the crowd. A kind Knightwatch agent with a gray furry mustache, glasses, kind of like Mommy’s, and shiny black shoes raced toward the Queen children.

The man panted, “Mia Smoak-Queen?”

She hugged her brother and sister protectively.

“Who are you?” The tough little one recited, “Our Daddy’s the Green Arrow. And Mommy’s Overwatch. They told me never to talk to strangers, or they’ll kick your butt.”

He chuckled, “Just like your old man, hm?

“My Daddy says I’m more like mama. Now who are you?”

The elderly man got down to their level, showing her his black leather Knightwatch badge.

He introduced, “My name is Frank Gibson. I’m from Knightwatch, and I work with your Uncle John.”

Her light blonde brows furrowed in disbelief.

“If you’re really friends with my Uncle John, what’s the special word?”

Frank thought for a moment, snapping his fingers, “Bumblebee.”

“Right.” She finally stood up, holding the twins’ hands, “You really going to help Mama and Daddy?”

During Mia and Frank’s conversation, agents managed to apprehend Dover’s equally crazy demon spawn. Unfortunately Alena slipped away like a sly fox as soon as authorities arrived on site. A team of EMTs carefully pried Felicity off the crate. She groaned loudly as blood drenched her black hoodie. The second team hustled to pull Oliver out from the debris. Frank distracted the children as their father left in pieces. A lone EMT found Oliver’s left arm under the rubble.

“Yes.” He promised. “They’ll be okay, kids.”

Frank draped his large black and yellow Knightwatch jacket over the Queen trio. He said a little silent prayer, hoping their heroic parents would really be okay. The Knightwatch agent dropped Mia, Lucas, and Morgan off to their Uncle John and Aunt Lyla. The agency directors arrived via helicopter as soon as Oliver and Felicity were admitted to the hospital.

**➳**

In Beaumont Medical Hospital, paramedics rushed the couple through double doors. They called out gender, age, injuries, blood pressure, and other vitals.

An ER doctor by the name Alex Hu gasped, “Damn, it’s a miracle these two even survived. Prep O.R. 4 for Mrs. Smoak-Queen and I want Dr. Stevens in consultation for Mr. Queen in O.R. 2.”

It was a flurry of residents and attendings in blue scrubs, darting around their patients. Clothes were cut off. Heart monitors beeped with consistent but faint signs of life. Oliver and Felicity went into surgery at the same time. Anesthesia hissed from gas masks, and the medical teams began countless of hours of work. Dr. Stevens couldn’t re-attach Oliver’s arm. The nerve damage, burns, and debris would cause deadly infections. Dr. Hu unfortunately discovered the biostimulant chip was causing a massive hemorrhaging bleed. She had no other choice but to remove it.

“Where am I?” Felicity inquired, voice rough and dry. 

A kind nurse in pink floral scrubs informed, “Beaumont Medical Hospital, ma’am. Dr. Hu will making her rounds in a minute to update you.”

She spotted an IV drip and another port for pain meds in each arm. Her vision blurred as she slipped in and out focus. She was exhausted and her legs felt numb. Oh no! Suddenly, memories of this horrific night all whammied at her in flashes. The kids were kidnapped. A bomb went off, and the last thing she remembered was blacking out from the pain. Her heart hammered in her chest, and the monitor beeped erratically.

“Easy, Mrs. Smoak-Queen.” Dr. Hu soothed, pressing the cold end of a stethoscope to her chest, “Can you take a few slow deep breaths for me?”

Felicity inhaled and exhaled calmly, but that didn’t quell the worry about her family. The good doctor regretfully recounted the mission gone wrong, and the cliff notes version of the surgery that followed upon their arrival.

Her patient demanded angrily, “Put my biostimulant chip back!”

“I’m afraid we can’t, ma’am.” Dr. Hu showed Felicity her x-rays. “The puncture wound to your L-1 vertebrae is far too great. As you can see here, you ruptured a spinal disk. And that impact from the crowbar created massive nerve damage.”

She sniffled, arms thrashing in anger. “That still doesn’t explain why you cannot put my goddamn chip back into my spine.”

The doctor sighed heavily, “I’ve consulted with our topmost neurosurgeon. I’m afraid even if you were to replace this device of yours with a new one, the constant stimulation on those malfunctioning nerves would result in chronic pain.”

“How bad is it?” Felicity countered. She had to try, dammit.

She recalled, “Dr. Tsukino believes if we were to attempt to insert another biostimulant chip, your symptoms would mimic that of ALS. The constant pain and pressure would become so intense, you wouldn’t be able to get out of bed, or pick up your children.”

“I see,” Her patient nodded in understanding, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

Dr Hu reminded, “You two were lucky to make it out alive. And plenty of patients with paralysis go on to live happy fulfilled lives.”

“I know.” She huffed, wiping her nose.

Felicity never expected their lives to go like this after they left Star City. Selfishly, this wasn’t what she wanted to hear. There was always another way, but since her only other option was a no go. Maybe it was time to try something different. Maybe acceptance was the only choice left.

“Where is my husband?”

“He’s three doors down in recovery at the burn unit.”

Felicity was adamant, “I want to see him.”

“Mrs. Smoak-Queen, we must abide by hospital protocol.”

Felicity death glared at the good doctor as if to say, “Screw your damn protocol.”

“Your move, doc.”

Dr. Hu pinched her furrowed brow, “Ben, please take Mrs. Smoak-Queen to see her husband.”

A strapping young male nurse with kind blue eyes transferred Felicity to the burn unit. The gurney wheel squeaked as they came to a stop. Oliver’s left pec and abdominals were wrapped in white bandages. She didn’t even know how he survived the bomb blast, but Felicity was grateful that he did.

“F’Lissy.” He coughed, wondering if he was hallucinating or something. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.

She assured, “I’m right here, Baby. The kids?”

“D-dig.”

His wife breathed a sigh of relief.

“How are you? She gasped, hands covering her mouth when Felicity finally noticed his missing left limb, “Oh my gosh!”

Red angry scar tissue hung off his bicep along with blackened charred bits of managed skin.

Dr. Stevens relayed the information he just told the archer, “It was a surprisingly clean break under the bicep. With a couple more surgeries, the remaining portion of his arm should heal pretty quickly, and we get the stump to look, ahem, more aesthetically pleasing. “ His eyes darted between the ailing duo. Breaking through the uncomfortable silence, the doctor cleared his throat, “Well, I suppose I should leave you two alone to talk.”

“Thank you, Dr. Stevens.” Felicity bid. The door creaked shut. “Oliver, Honey, I’m…”

This is the part when Oliver would usually brush it with an “It’s nothing,” excuse. However, this time their losses cut deeper than ever before in the twelve years of being heroes.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize because this isn’t anyone’s fault, but Dover and Whitlock’s. And please don’t look at me.”

“What? Why?”

Because for the first time in their seven years of marriage, Oliver felt Felicity looked at him like he was broken, like he was a monster. Oliver wanted to tell her, but the words never came. He felt like an ugly beast with his missing limb. So ashamed. She looked at him with so much pain in her eyes he couldn’t even face her. In all honesty, Felicity was more or less shocked and concerned.

She cleared her throat, “Before you fall back asleep, there’s something I need to tell you. Dr Hu says that I’m…” She choked on a sob.

“I know.” Oliver turned away, wishing he could hold her. But he couldn’t.

Felicity insisted, “Oliver, look at me. Please look at me. There’s no other way this time.”

“I-I don’t know how we’re supposed to move past this one, Felicity.”

Her lips lifted in the tiniest hopeful smile, “It’s not going to be easy, but we’ll figure it out together. We always do.”

They fell asleep side by side. Oliver and Felicity damn near ripped the IVs from their veins the next day until nurses stopped the heroic couple. A few weeks later, Felicity was placed back in an ugly standard issue hospital wheelchair. And a lot of Oliver’s scar tissue on his left arm was removed to create a cleaner line for his nude carbon fiber prosthetic that annoyed the Hell of him. They met in the therapy unit. Felicity was on the parallel bars with help from a harness, and her husband was cranking an arm physio bike to its limit. They weren’t angry at each other. But it was a massive adjustment. With one shared regretful glance, they couldn’t believe this was their life now.

**➳**

To say, they had some magical fix it recovery plan would be a lie. Oliver and Felicity put on happy smiles for the kids, but they were far from it. Six months into their recovery, Oliver learned how to button his shirt. He cursed that men’s shirt buttons were always on the left, but he still couldn’t prepare a meal for his family on his own.

“Shit.” Oliver growled as the heirloom tomato he attempted to chop rolled off the cutting board.

Mia parroted with a cheeky grin, “Shit.”

“Nice job on teaching Mia her first curse word.” She gave him a sarcastic bout of applause, “Kudos. Well done, my love.” Felicity cleared her throat, Amelia Charlotte Smoak-Queen, only grownups use that kind of word.”

“Daddy’s mad again, isn’t he?” Their daughter realized, feeling the tension between her parents.

Her mom excused, “Daddy’s just a little cranky. That’s all.”

“If you say so, Mama.”

Oliver sniped, “Don’t you all have somewhere else to be?”

“Yeah, yeah, our picnic. So why don’t we go do that?” Felicity scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Felicity rolled away with Mia in her lap. They were supposed to have a family picnic all together, but for some reason, Oliver was suddenly too busy working on his culinary skills. And Felicity try as she might, couldn’t make it that grassy steep hill. She huffed and puffed when she couldn’t find the proper momentum. She rolled backward, nearly tumbling right out of her seat.

“Damn it.” She grumbled low under her breath.

Now Morgan repeated, “Damn it.”

“No, no, no, that’s a bad word.”

“Ba wor?” Lucas echoed in question.

Mia remembered, “It’s kinda a grown up word.”

“Yes.”

Paul, her physical therapist, looked for a less steep spot, and suggested the go there.

He reminded, “I know you want to be independent, but sometimes it’s okay to ask for help.”

“Yeah,” Her daughter chimed, “I’m a really good helper. Right mama?”

She gigged, brushing her fingertip against the five year old’s nose, “Yes, you are.”

“Me too.” The twins added in unison, “Me too.”

Paul chuckled, “See? You have these little monkeys, so all you have to do is ask.” 

“Yeah, why don’t you tell that to my husband?”

In the kitchen, Oliver threw that stupid chunky tomato against the wall. The red fruit splattered against a wooden beam.

With a wet rag in hand, the nanny noted, “Oh, wonderful. Another mess for me to clean.”

“I’m sorry Raisa.” He bowed his head in shame, looking at his bare feet.

Raisa questioned, hands on her hips “Why do you not wish to use the fake arm from the hospital?”

“It pinches, and I can’t get it to move the way I want it to when I need to do stuff.” He complained, pouting like his toddler twins.

She cupped his face, “Then you must practice, my dear boy. Or I am afraid you will have to ask for help. And there is certainly nothing wrong with that.”

“I guess so,” Her former charge shrugged.

Raisa held a new heirloom tomato securely while Oliver did the chopping. The duo managed to bake a hearty lasagna for dinner and garlic bread.

“Dinner is…”

In an attempt to hold the main and side dish with his teeth and right arm, dishes shattered onto the floor after he took two big steps. Marinara sauce and broken shards littered the dining room floor. Oliver grumbled curses under his breath, throwing gobs of their ruined dinner against the wall.

Mia announced with glee, “Food fight.”

“No.” Her parents refused in harmony.

“Come children.” Raisa ushered the trio out of the kitchen, “Let us leave your mother and father to discuss important adult things.”

Felicity threw up her hands, “Great job. You scared Raisa and the kids away.”

“Lovely. As if I need to hear another dig from you.” Oliver grumbled, shaking his head.

She crossed her arms, “Well, I wouldn’t know what you need, Oliver. You keep pushing me further and further away for the past six months. It’s almost like you don’t want to be…”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

“Well, what am I supposed to think? You sure as Hell haven’t shown me you love me lately Oliver. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with me?” Her husband repeated, gesturing and waving to amputated left arm, “Hello!”

Felicity grit, “Oh, do not use your injury as a goddamn excuse. That is not fucking fair. You weren’t the only one hurt that night.”

“You don’t…”

They heard a sniffle with a whimper from behind the couch.

“Stop it!” Mia wailed at the top of her lungs, nose dropping with snot, “Stop fighting!”

Regret wore on her parents’ faces. But before they could reassure their daughter that Mommy and Daddy were going to be alright, they were interrupted by a knock at their red front door.

Archer announced, “William Clayton-Queen and Donna Smoak outside of Queen residence.”

“Mom?” Felicity inquired, lifting her eyebrows.

Oliver unlocked the front door, and indeed his mother-in-law and son were standing out in the cold. Donna was dressed in a purple fitted velour Juicy tracksuit and tattered brown Uggs. And William was in U of M hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. But it was the angry strict expressions that surprised them. Hard angry crinkles marred their faces.

“What are you two doing here?”

“And when did you even fly into Michigan, Mom?”

Her mother informed, “Mia’s been calling me every day since the mission went South.”

“She has?”

Mia looked down at her mermaid printed socks, “Bubbe and Will are the only real grownups I can talk to since you and Daddy aren’t being very nice to each other anymore.”

William cleared his throat, “Why don’t bubbe and I take the kids for the weekend?”

“Hell no,” His father denied adamantly.

“Oliver, Honey, I think it’s the best plan.” Donna agreed gently.

These two weren’t agreeing on much lately, but Felicity thought, “Mom, you and Will can’t just take the kids every time Oliver and I have a little fight.”

“A little fight? Baby girl, we could hear you two screaming at each other the moment we pulled up.”

“That’s not fair.”

William pointed out, “Fair, dad? How is fair for you and Felicity to act this way in front of Mia, Morgan, and Lucas. It scares the shrap out of them, so let me be clear, Bubbe and I are taking the kids to my apartment for the weekend. Because it’s what my baby sister wants.”

Donna stood firm in agreement with her oldest grandson’s decision.

Felicity hunched down to her daughter’s level as best she could, “You do?”

Mia nodded silently in confirmation.

“Fine,” Oliver relented after a long pause.

Donna said, taking Mia’s hand, “Good. It give us time to pack your things and Luke and Morgy’s stuff too.”

“Yeah, we can’t forget Mr. Square Bear and Ollie-Bear. Oh and Padma, my purple bee.”

The Smoak girls chatted away as they disappeared into the bedroom. The kids were packed for the weekend as William waited in awkward silence. They loaded William’s junky blue Nissan with just about everything they could carry.

Morgan waved, “Bye, bye Mama.”

“See you soon,” Lucas blew flying kisses to both his parents.

His parents briefly put on fake happy faces, and caught the smooches. Lucas and Morgan were really too young to really understand the tension between Mama and Daddy. The twins just saw this weekend as a fun sleepover at Will’s place.

William sighed, walking out to the car, “You know you always told me how I needed to protect my little brother and sisters. I never would’ve guessed in a million years, it’d be from the two of you.”

Ouch. That struck a chord with them, and it nailed them straight in the heart. Harsh, but true. Oliver and Felicity watched the tail lights fade away as William drove their family to his shoebox apartment outside of University of Michigan.

Felicity declared, blowing out a breath, “We really need to figure out our shit, don’t we?”

“Yeah. This whole talking and listening thing works both ways.”

They stewed in anger and awkwardness for what felt like an hour. The clock ticked loudly as neither spouse said a word. Felicity spun her tires back and forth while Oliver sulked on the couch, wishing he could melt into the cushions. His wife made the first move. She approached him. He sat up, perking an eyebrow. She parked her wheelchair between his legs.

His wife offered, slapping his thighs, “Truce?”

“Okay.” He sighed heavily.

Felicity continued in one long breath, “I guess I’ll go first. Look at me, Oliver. I can’t move. I mean where we live isn’t exactly wheelchair friendly, and I can’t do the same things with the kids I’ve done before. It makes me feel like I’m failing as a mom.”

“What are you talking about? You’re a great mom. Mia, Lucas, and Morgan, they love you — no matter what. And so do I. But if you need help, then ask me.”

Her lips pursed, “Um, you haven’t been the easiest guy to talk to, Oliver. But I guess that’s because we’ve both been shutting each other out. And if tonight is any indication, we cannot do that anymore.”

“I know.” He sighed heavily, pressing his forehead against hers, “It’s just… Okay, be honest are you afraid of me?”

“Of you? Never. But lately with that temper, it feels like I married the guy who first came home from the island. The guy who doesn’t know how to process his feelings and who always wants to be alone.”

Oliver cupped her face delicately, “I’m sorry… It’s just that that year, I lost more than a limb Felicity. I lost a part of me that defines who I am. I can’t nock my arrows. I can’t make our family dinner. What good am I to you anymore?”

“Hey, you, Oliver Jonas Queen, are the man I love. And that’s never changing. But we cannot let this break us. We are stronger than this. We are better than this. We both have to learn to adapt to our new lives.”

His breath grazed her face, “How?”

“Well, for starters, I think we both need to stop wallowing in our self pity. We can’t yell at each other anymore. At least not in front of the kids anyway. That won’t solve anything.”

Oliver concurred, nose bumping against hers, “Definitely.”

“And I know you hate your prosthetic arm from Dr. Hanger. “ She thought carefully, working on a design schematic in her mind, “It’s going to take some time, but I bet I can build you a better one.”

“Really? I mean, of course you can, but just thought of it, wow!”

She grabbed his face, and kissed him, “Yeah, wow.”

Her husband promised, “And I’ll be there. We-we can build ramps and hey, I can still hold you with my good arm.”

Felicity laughed for the first time in forever when her man did just that. This long awaited conversation brought a glimmer of hope back to their lives. They desperately needed it.

**➳**

Wiliam was frying half a dozen eggs in a cast iron skillet.The twins were on bubbe’s lap reading Stuart Little. Their eyes lingered on the pictures of the small white hand drawn mouse.

“Ooh, shoot, this one has a shell in it.” William grimaced, plucking a shell with his fingertips, “Hot, hot, hot!”

Mia mentioned in exasperation, “Next time use the broked shell to gets the other teeny tiny one. Daddy does. He says eggy shells are like mangoes.”

Her brother chuckled in correction, ruffling her curls, “Magnets. And I’ll remember that next time, sis.”

“Yeah, are you my little Stuart, Morgy.” Donna cooed, combing her dark wavy locks, “Did Mama ever tell you what I told her?”

“No.”

She recited, ““תהיה אמי (thyh amyts) In Hebrew, it means to be brave just like Stuart.”

“Will?”

“Yeah, M?”

Her lip jutted out with worry, “Are Mommy and Daddy going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sure they will be, kiddo. It’s just been a tough year, but they’ll work it out. They always do.”

William whipped up breakfast dinner with over easy eggs, golden brown pancakes, and hearty sausage just like Dad used to make back in the day. Everybody enjoyed their meals in peace and quiet. Back in their cabin, Felicity began sketching rough designs for her husband’s prosthetic arm and so much more. Oliver smiled at the first idea for a new limb as well as a scribbled floor plan for a new bunker. Dover, Whitlock, and the Ninth Circle proved they would need their own safe place, despite leaving that life behind years ago.

“Well, what do you think?”

He smooched her dark roots, “Looks like a perfect start.”

* * *

_**Beachfront Hotel — Houghton Lake 2025** _

Their perfect start had more than a few bumps in the road, but Felicity was finally about to design Oliver a new left arm, what would later be known as STOQ prosthetic mach one. She created to respond with the synapses in his brain, so it would function like his old arm. However, Felicity and Cisco were still working out the kinks with the synaptic freeze ups.

“You think they were staring at me or you?” Felicity piped up as their car was in self-driving mode. The couple cruised over a long winding road. They were surrounded by the coast, tall redwood trees, and a few convenience stores.

Oliver mused without a missing a beat, “Both, but then again, I don’t have the legs for that dress.”

The super heroic had a much needed date after seven long months of recovery. They had dinner at a local steakhouse, and certain customers shot them dirty looks as if they were some sort of freak show. It was like they had never an amputee and a woman in a wheelchair before. They were highly offended, although the couple decided to stay until dessert for a decadent strawberry cheesecake. Suddenly a loud boom startled Felicity. Red, white, and blue fireworks crackled in the night sky.

“Geez,” His wife gasped, clutching her Star of David pendant, “Fourth of July was over a week ago. You’d think they’d ease up on the fireworks.”

Oliver’s arm whirred, and he squeezed her hand ever so delicately, wishing he could feel the warmth of her skin. Her soft gaze flicked over to him, and drifted down to the silver chain that now held his wedding band close to his heart.

As they pulled up to a lakeside hotel, Oliver flirted in a low whisper, “So why don’t we make our own fireworks?”

Felicity threw a wad of cash at the valet without even looking at her. No, she was fixated on her husband. Tonight, this night, had been a long time coming for them 

She slapped his behind with a giggle when they got in the elevator, “That was so bad.”

“I can make it up to you.” He squatted down to her level and winked.

His fingertips splayed out over her round cheeks. Her hands cupped the back of his head. They engaged in a slew of sloppy kisses as if there was no need for oxygen. She tugged at his graying locks at the nape of his neck when he nibbled on that hot pink lower lip. More teeth and tongue got involved when the couple realized they had finally arrived quickly to the second floor.

His wife whimpered, patting his slacks again, “Oliver, Oliver, the key card.”

“Right, right.” Her husband exhaled, fishing it out of his back pocket.

He sighed in both relief and hating the fact that they had to stop kissing — even if it was only for a moment. A beep and three green lights granted them access. His knees creaked, and her brakes squeaked. They felt like couldn’t get in the room or out of their clothes fast enough.

Felicity noticed since Oliver was already in the buff, “Someone’s eager.”

“It bodes well for me that speed impresses you as we’ve gotten older.” Oliver offered a lopsided smirk.

He hauled Felicity up into his arms. She hissed when his prosthetic one really bit into her shoulders. Oliver’s eyes flashed with immediate concern, but his worry melted away when she met him with a searing kiss. He laid her gently in the center of the bed. The bodice of her red dress left all askew, and it was then her husband realized she wasn’t wearing a bra all night.

“Surprised?”

“Definitely.”

His lips traveled over every inch of her torso — those stretch marks at the tops of her breasts, each and over scar he wished she never got until pert little wanton noises spilled out from her mouth. His mouth pressed hard, sucking on the apex of her thighs. She couldn’t feel anything from below the waist except a few tingles. Sometimes it felt like Felicity was floating on a cloud that went on endlessly. Suddenly, Oliver stopped. His wife’s eyes flew open, and he gestured down to her catheter tubes that were a tinge of pale yellow.

Felicity cheeks heated, oddly complimenting her dress, “I’m-I’m sorry.”

“Hey, never apologize.” Oliver insisted, groaning as he back on his bad knee, “You and me, Baby. We’ve been down this road before. I gotcha.”

It was Oliver’s turn to kiss her before she protested otherwise. The subsequent moments that followed were a far cry from sexy, but they were necessary. Oliver slapped on some blue surgical gloves. Then he removed his wife’s catheter and cleaned between her legs with a wet rag. Felicity laid there naked, never feeling more exposed than she had right now.

The tech mogul chimed, “So, normal Tuesday night, right?”

“I think you’re beautiful, Felicity — no matter what.”

She questioned, tugging at his right arm, “Even when we’re in our eighties and racing wheelchairs around William’s mansion.”

“Even then.” He chuckled softly, tenderly brushing her hair off her shoulders

The thought of them in their eighties made the couple both grin. They shared soft smooches. His lips traveled the expanse of her body from her forehead down to her toes, which were like tiny icicles. But Felicity wanted her husband, where she could really feel him. She wagged a finger at him, though he left to fetch a condom and some lubricant out of her bag. Their heavy breaths ghosted over one another. She alternated between stroking and pumping him while he worked the lubricant over and in her delicate sex.

She kissed his nose, asking, “Honey, please.”

The sensations were muted for both of them. Oliver felt the warm wet heat much easier than his wife. She felt a minute pressure, and these tiny little sparks of sensation when he was inside her. But nothing felt the same. And nothing would ever be the same again. Oliver tried whispered all memories they shared in Bali, Aruba, and Havana, where they barely remembered to put on clothes. Her beautiful brilliant mind filled in the gaps and she could sense him, deeper and sharper than she had before. He sucked on her neck, leaving a small red hickey, and she gasped in a mix of pain and pleasure.

“Shit, Felicity, Baby, you okay?”

Felicity winced as he pulled out, “N-no.”

Damn it, Oliver had never meant to hurt his wife. That was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“Okay, okay, tell me what I need to do.”

Suddenly, a warm flooded her at the loss of him, and urine dribbled out onto the crisp white sheets.

Angry tears slipped down her cheeks, she grit “And now I just pissed myself. Lovely.”

Felicity punched the soiled mattress.

“I'll-I’ll clean it up.” Oliver responded diligently

He smooched a sobbing Felicity countless times after wrapping her in his navy suit jacket and an itchy gray blanket from their room’s wardrobe. This wasn’t the first time that happened in her initial bout with paralysis, although it didn’t make it any less embarrassing. Felicity noted through bleary eyes how her husband’s mechanical arm locked again when he flipped the mattress.

She sniffled, “It’s not fucking fair. Why does it always have to be us?”

“I don’t know.” Her husband said with a shake of his head as he carried Felicity back to bed, “But I know one thing, Felicity Megan Smoak-Queen is that I love you more than you can even comprehend.”

She poked his scarred chest, and reminded, “I have an IQ higher than Albert Einstein.”

He laughed with her, despite the horrible first run of this night, “I know. I know.”

Oliver regretfully spotted brown and purple bruises on her back just above the band of her old injuries. He apologized profusely, azure eyes gleaming with fat tears. 

Felicity rolled her eyes, kissed him, and told him to “Please stop.” And get her some ice.

Room service staff brought two ice packs tout sweet. The ice packed were wedged between her back, and Oliver’s chest. After seven long months, this night definitely did not go as they’d hope. They sighed in both emotional and physical exhaustion. For a date night, it really took a toll on them.

Oliver murmured into her neck, “Sorry, I…”

“Enough.” Felicity hushed him with a finger on his lips, “Let’s just watch the crazy drunken idiots use up the rest of their fireworks.”

“Okay.” He dotted a kiss at the back of her head.

She shrugged, “And who knows maybe one day, we’ll get good at this again.”

Oliver’s lips curled against her skin. There was always hope. The moon reflected in the lake, and fiery vibrant colors burst out into the sky. Felicity fell asleep with math statics and new ideas from Oliver’s arm swirling in her head. His platinum wedding band and arm felt cool against her skin. Oliver soon drifted off after pressing a sleepy kiss into her hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Kindness and Kudos fuel my muse.  
> Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@dmichellewrites](https://twitter.com/dmichellewrites)


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